But the daydrake didn’t even break stride. She pulled another arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and released. Again, her aim was off, but it didn’t miss—this one sinking into the beast’s chest a few inches below its long neck. Still the daydrake didn’t slow.
Darby pranced sideways, but Kate stayed centered in the saddle, her legs working as anchors. Breathe, focus, aim. Instinct and training took over. She pulled the third arrow free and launched it. This time it found its mark in the creature’s jugular. The daydrake’s nostrils flared and its wail turned from threat to pain. She loosed the fourth arrow, striking the neck again. The creature continued its charge—pain now becoming rage.
The fifth arrow struck the same, a third shaft protruding from its neck. One arrow left. The creature was slowing, but it wouldn’t fall in time. Not without a killing blow. It was close enough now that she could smell the scorched stench of the air around it.
She pulled the last enchanted arrow from the quiver and nocked it. Inhaling, she centered her aim over the arrow, willing the shot to be true. Darby’s panic pressed against Kate’s control. Distantly she heard Corwin calling for her to flee. If she failed to kill this creature now, they would both die.
She pulled the bowstring as taut as her reach would allow. Then she let it go. The arrow flew hard and true, sinking six inches deep into the daydrake’s eye socket. The creature loped forward two more strides, then stumbled, going down on its knees. The hind legs rose up over its head and it flipped, landing in a broken heap less than a yard from Darby.
The horse snorted and began to back away. Kate let him, her breath coming in frantic gasps now that the threat was over.
She’d done it, survived her first nightdrake attack. And during the day. She—
The thought stopped dead in her mind as the sound of more wailing reached her ears. Kate jerked her head to the right to see three more daydrakes bearing down on her.
Three drakes, and she was out of enchanted arrows.
7
Kate
THERE WASN’T TIME TO THINK, only react. Kate drew another arrow, this one without an enchanted tip. Aiming again, it flew true, better than all the ones before, but to no avail. The moment the tip struck the daydrake’s hide, it glanced off, as harmless as a pebble tossed at a boulder.
Hissing between her teeth, Kate dropped the bow and reached for the sword sitting in its harness by her left leg. She had it halfway free of the sheath when she remembered Bonner’s revolver. There was no time to worry if it would jam or not. Kate plunged her hand into the saddlebag and yanked it out.
Aiming at the nearest drake, she pulled back the hammer with her thumb, then pressed the trigger. The bullet struck the drake square in the head, felling it at once. She pulled the hammer again, aimed for the second drake, and pulled the trigger. The first bullet went wide, but she fired again a second later, and this one hit it in the throat.
With another bullet already in the chamber, she fired a fourth time, and a fifth. The second daydrake went down. She aimed for the third, but Darby reared up, breaking free of her hold on his mind. By the time the horse fell back onto all fours again, the daydrake had reached them. The creature leaped from a crouched position, soaring so high that for a moment it looked like it was really flying, its membranous wings extended out around it like a ghastly cloak. The beast struck her, wrenching her out of the saddle.
She landed hard on her back, her head smacking the ground. But somehow she’d managed to hold on to the gun. The creature’s weight crushed against her legs and torso, and its claws raked the ground beside her as it fought to get at her. She pulled back the hammer, struggling to point the barrel toward that jaw opening before her. Jagged teeth glistening with venom filled her vision. Its foul breath burned her nose and throat. With shaking hands, Kate pulled the trigger. Fire burst out from the end of the gun, the noise so deafening she felt that someone was using the inside of her skull for a bell.
But the bullet flew true, crashing into the creature’s mouth, through its brain, and out the back of its head. Death came instantly. It fell onto her, pinning her to the ground.
Kate gasped, desperate for breath as the daydrake’s weight crushed the air from her lungs. Dropping the revolver, she reached up and tried to push the drake off her. Blood, sticky and hot, flowed over her hands and down her arms from the hole in the creature’s head. She pushed and pushed, teeth gritted with the effort. She was barely aware of the tears sliding over her cheeks. It was no good. She wasn’t strong enough to free herself from such a weight.
Kate heard Corwin call her name again, but she ignored him, craning her head to find Darby. She spotted the horse in a flat-out run, heading away from the death and terror.
“Stop!” Kate screamed at him, putting all the force of her mind and magic behind it. For a second she thought the distance too far, but then Darby stumbled to a halt. His nostrils flared as he snorted in protest of her command, the opposite of what his instincts demanded.
Come back here, Kate thought, projecting the image of what she wanted. I am your herd. Stay with me. Hesitantly, the horse obeyed. He returned slowly, cautiously, upset by being forced closer to the thing that had nearly killed him.
Kate fought hard to keep the horse under her spell, her magic wrapped tight around his glowing center as she bent his will. Her head spun from the effort, the dizziness made worse from the struggle for each breath. Finally, the horse reached her. She willed him to lower his head so she could grab the reins and pull them over his neck. Sweat darkened the horse’s brown coat to black, and he trembled with every movement.
“Easy, boy.” Kate ran her hand over his nose. “Now come on, and pull me out of here.” She sent the image, guiding him with her magic. Eager at any chance to put more distance between himself and the daydrake, Darby began to back up. It didn’t matter that the drake was dead, only that it was still here, fouling the air with its stench.
When the reins grew taut, Darby paused at the uncomfortable pressure of the bridle against his poll. He pinned his ears and stomped a foreleg.
“Go on. I know it’s hard, but you’ll die without me.” She sent him an image of night falling and what would happen then. The horse dug in his back feet, his head reared high as he pulled her free of the daydrake’s crushing weight.
“Good boy. Good wonderful, handsome boy.” Kate lumbered to her feet and stroked his face. The horse snorted in response, spraying her with gunk. She laughed, light-headed with relief. “Extra grain for you tonight.”
Now Darby pressed his head into her chest and gave her stomach a push with his lips. Of all the times not to have a sugar cube tucked away in a pocket. “Soon, I promise,” she said, moving his head aside.
“Kate.”
The soft cry made her flinch, and her relief gave way to fear. They weren’t out of danger yet. Giving Darby a firm command with her magic to stay put, she strode over to the prince, stopping only long enough to retrieve the revolver and reload it with fresh bullets. Then she tucked it into her belt, determined never to be without it again. Bonner would have a treat coming to him, too. A lifetime’s supply of his favorite chocolates.
Kneeling beside Corwin, Kate surveyed the damage. It was worse than she’d feared. Gashes ran up and down his arms, and four puncture wounds rimmed his shoulder, blood oozing out, sluggish and dark. It made a shocking contrast to the bright red of his face, a sign of the venom burning him from the inside.
“Kate,” he said, reaching toward her. “Kate.”
“Shhhhh, don’t talk.” Each time he said her name, her heart lost its rhythm. She needed to concentrate. There was no telling what other damage he might’ve suffered, and the sun was already dropping toward the horizon. “I’m going to pull you out.”
Corwin nodded, and she hoped that he wasn’t as far gone as he seemed.
Kate blew out a breath, trying to summon her courage at the idea of touching him. Then she slid her hands beneath his arms, bringing her face alarmingly close
to his. Closing her eyes, she tugged. He slid maybe half an inch but no more. Kate leaned back, pulling harder, but it was no use.
She didn’t bother trying to move the drake; it was too big. She went in search of rope, finding some in the nearby wreckage. Returning to Corwin, she fastened an end around his chest and the other to Darby’s saddle. Then she guided the horse forward. Corwin cried out when the rope squeezed around his injured torso. Kate bit her lip, hating the sound of it but not stopping. Pain is better than death.
When it was finally over, Corwin lay panting on the ground, his eyes closed and his sweaty face shining in the fading sunlight. Hesitantly, Kate approached him, her gaze sweeping his body for more damage. Most of his wounds seemed confined to his upper torso, but it was impossible to assess the damage to his legs. There was no blood or visible sign of injury, but that didn’t mean the bones hadn’t been crushed.
Kate cleared her throat. “Your highness, do you think you can stand? We have to get out of here before dark.”
Corwin shifted his legs, drawing them close to his body for leverage. Not broken, then. But when he tried to sit up, his trembling arms gave way at once. More blood trickled out from the puncture wounds, and a sweet, noxious smell came with it, like milk gone sour. He needed a healer. He needed a squadron of soldiers. He needed someone who could take care of him and get him away from here.
But he has only me.
Hardening her resolve, Kate set to work. Never in her life had she been quite so thankful for her magic. Without it, she never would’ve managed to get Corwin in the saddle. She willed Darby to lie down beside the prince. She worried Corwin might remember this later and wonder how she’d made the horse do it, but there was nothing for it. She had to get him out of here. Once the horse was down, she grabbed Corwin under the arms and pulled and pushed and shoved him up, using all her strength.
“You just had to get bigger in the last few years, didn’t you?” she whispered, struggling beneath his weight. Then she shouted in his ear, “Please, your highness, you’ve got to help. We’re not going to make it if you don’t.”
Corwin made some unintelligible noise in answer. Then, with visible effort, he raised his arms, grabbed hold of Darby’s saddle, and hauled himself up. With Kate bracing him from behind, Corwin managed to swing a leg over the horse’s back. The moment he was in place, Kate willed Darby to stand, urging the horse to be gentle. Even still, Corwin nearly plummeted over the side. It was all she could do to keep him up there.
Once the horse was upright, Corwin slumped forward, leaning awkwardly against Darby’s neck. The gelding pinned his ears, but Kate willed him to stay still as she climbed up behind Corwin. Once she was mounted, she pulled Corwin upright until he leaned against her, his broad back as warm as a brick oven and just as hard. In seconds her arms and back began to ache from the effort of holding him in place. Gritting her teeth against the discomfort, she urged Darby forward.
Anything faster than a walk proved impossible. Corwin was too weak to keep his balance, and she was barely strong enough to hold him upright completely on her own. He wavered somewhere near unconsciousness, often muttering under his breath or making soft noises.
Night stalked them, as dangerous as any predator. Kate scanned the horizon again and again, fearful of drakes. The abandoned Relay tower loomed in the distance, but no matter how long they rode, it never seemed to get any closer.
Dusk arrived, quickly turning to twilight. Darby’s ears shifted at every sound, the horse on alert for danger. The normal night noises of crickets and birds seemed ominous, each one a possible drake in Kate’s imagination. She felt her magic weakening by the second. Any moment now and she would lose her ability to control the horse. But it seemed for once the gods were favoring her—or more likely they were favoring Corwin—for they reached the Relay tower just as full dark set in. There was no hint of drakes about, but Kate didn’t waste time. She urged Darby inside, then dismounted.
“Hold still,” she said, speaking as much to the horse as to Corwin. The former listened, but the latter, she couldn’t be sure. She doubted he was conscious. For the last half hour he’d been utterly silent.
She swung the heavy wooden door closed, then slid all three slats into place. Not that the wood would stop a drake. She needed to set the wardstones and activate them. But first she had to get Corwin out of the saddle before he fell and broke his neck. With her luck, she would be accused of murdering him if that happened.
With her magic gone for the night, she had no choice but to pull Corwin from the saddle herself. She positioned Darby in one of the two stalls filled with old straw. Then she grabbed Corwin about the waist and pulled him toward her. She crumpled beneath his weight, and he landed halfway on top of her. Scrambling out from beneath him, she moved Darby into the other stall, pulled off the saddlebag, then raced up the narrow stairs to the second floor.
The three wardstone embrasures were set around the circular room, forming the three points of the sacred triangle. Kate placed the stones in each one, whispering a prayer that the magic on the embrasures would still work. Any shift in the tower’s foundation could cause the enchantment to fail. When she slid the third one into place, she spoke the word of invocation and waited, breath held. A moment later the shimmer of the barrier appeared, and for the first time in hours she breathed easy. They were safe from outside threats.
Now to deal with the ones from inside.
Fighting off a wave of fatigue, Kate made her way back down the stairs. Corwin lay in the same awkward heap he’d landed in.
“Please don’t be dead,” she whispered, approaching him.
Kate hauled him over, wincing at how roughly she was handling him. Not that she could help it. He was so heavy, as if the drake poison were taking on weight inside him. His forehead burned with fever when she laid her fingers against it. His eyes slid open for a moment, before falling closed again. His breathing deepened, and she hoped he was truly asleep now. She didn’t want him awake for this next part.
Steeling her courage, she set about removing his belt and unfastening the buttons on his outer tunic. Once it was undone, she pulled his arms free one at a time. He wore short leather vambraces around each wrist. She unlaced them, pausing for a moment when she saw the tattoo on his right wrist: a hawk with a shield clutched in its talons. Recognition tugged at her mind but she couldn’t identify the symbol. Nevertheless, its presence sent a strange flutter through her stomach, a reminder of all the years that had passed since she’d last seen Corwin. He never had the tattoo when she knew him.
He’s a different person now, she reminded herself. As am I.
His under tunic proved a bigger challenge. She had to pull it up and over his head. He groaned as the fabric grazed his wounds, some of it stuck to him with dried blood. Once it was off, she tossed it aside. Then she looked down on him, trying to ignore his nakedness and focus only on the wounds that needed cleansing. Even still, a flush spread over her skin at the sight of his body, his skin smooth and perfect save for his injuries and the thin line of dark, coarse hair running down from his navel to the waist of his breeches.
Next she retrieved water from the well and set about cleaning the wounds. Her fingers trembled as she ran a wet rag over the gashes. For the puncture wounds, she poured water straight into them. Corwin flinched and came awake enough to cringe. But just as quickly he faded again.
With the wounds finally as clean as possible, she retrieved the jar of salve from her saddlebag. It was meant for horses, but she didn’t think it would harm him. At least it couldn’t be worse than the drake poison. Gently, Kate began to apply it. His skin was fire against her fingertips. When she finished with this, she would have to wet more rags and drape them over him to fight the fever. She herself was starting to get chilled, but there would be no fire tonight.
Kate became so focused on the task that she failed to notice when Corwin awoke.
“That tickles,” he said, capturing her hand where it hovered an inch
over his bare chest. His fingers were listless, but his touch was heavy. It sent tingles down her arm.
She stared at him, startled to see he was close to lucid, more than he’d been so far during this long, horrible day. She dropped her gaze, a flush heating her skin once more. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Kate, sweet Kate, Traitor Kate. . . .”
She sucked in a breath at his use of her hated moniker. She raised her gaze to his face, for a second believing he’d meant to hurt her with those words, but he wasn’t as coherent as he’d momentarily seemed. She waited to see if he would say more. When he didn’t, she returned her focus to applying the salve.
Sometime later she heard him draw a ragged breath. “You are so beautiful, Kate Brighton. Did I ever tell you that?”
Once, she thought, her heart beating too rapidly for speaking. The first time you kissed me. She stole a glance at him, only to find his blue eyes opened and peering at her. They were bloodshot and bleary, but as alluring as ever, like the sky on a clear, summer day. She looked away.
“I should’ve told you that every day,” he said.
Old memories stirred in Kate’s mind, and for the first time in years, they were good ones.
“And your sideways smile. I haven’t seen it in so long. Not outside of my dreams.”
Now Kate gaped down at him. His words had been slurred together, and one look at his face told her the truth of his delirium, but what he said made her heart wrench. It was cruel to remind her of something that was no more, that could never be again.
“But then your father . . . he had to . . . had to do what he did and ruin everything.”
She went still, her emotions churning hard. He was delirious, she knew, maybe worse than before, but he was speaking of things that she had longed to know. Things she had once begged him to tell her. Temptation seized hold of her. She’d waited so long to learn the truth of that night, to hear what he had seen. When they arrested her father, she was forbidden to see him. Corwin was her only hope to understand. Years ago, he’d refused to tell her anything.
Onyx & Ivory Page 8